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As most of us who have pursued fertility treatments have heard, there are studies that aim to prove that long term use of hormonal medications can increase the rates of cancer among their users. Now, as with anything, there are just as many studies proving that this is NOT the case, but let’s face facts […]

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Howdy, friends! I know it’s been quiet around here (all of my recent posts seem to begin with some incarnation of those same words, I knooooow…), but I honestly just don’t have a whole heck of a lot going on right now! Well, that’s not entirely true. Since the last time I posted, there’s been […]

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People often ask me how being treated with acupuncture and Traditional Chinese Medicine differs from being treated in an OB or RE’s office… I usually respond by muttering something snarky about the amount of needle pokes, but truthfully, there are a lot of differences! I’ve been thinking about and adding to this list for a […]

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If there’s one thing infertility has taken from me, it’s been my optimism from time to time. Sometimes it’s been gone longer than others… I try to keep a positive attitude, even when things are darkest, but it’s just not always possible. There are times that I succumb to the darkness, and let myself think […]

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Hi folks. I don’t really have anything groundbreaking to say, or any amazing news to share, but I wanted to at least reach out and let you all know that I’m still here. Life is good. I’m spending my weekends farmers’ marketing and cooking yummy foods, and I spent all day yesterday in a 24-hour […]

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Sunday, September 29th, 2013. CD30, 11DPO. Hello, my friends. :) I know it’s been quiet here, and I do feel a little badly about that. I mean, it’s not like I think there’s anyone out there in Reader-land going “Oh sweet tap-dancin’ Jesus, what’s going on with Tracy?? I haven’t heard any TMI from […]

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It’s been a year since you left, and I think of you every single day, but today especially.

You are a part of who I am now, as you have been since the moment I discovered your tiny existence… Since before that, really. You color my vision both of the past and of the present, and you will forever alter my outlook for the future.

Sometimes the thoughts of you come back unexpectedly, like when I’m digging for some trinket in my cedar chest, and your first photo catches my eye. There are times I think you have some control over my thoughts of you; it can’t just be coincidence that a feather will find me when I’m upset.

Other times though, I conjure images of what you might look like today, what your laugh might sound like. I know you’d be a funny little thing – that’s just genetics. I’d be so proud to introduce you to everyone I know, and many people I don’t know in person who hoped and prayed along with your dad and me. You’d be my absolute pride and joy today.

Still though, I am proud. Proud that I have the honor of being your mother, if maybe not in the traditional sense today. I’m proud that I carried you for however long I was able, and I’m proud that having loved you then exposed a whole side of me that I never knew existed.

I’m proud too that your loss broke my heart, but not my spirit. When you left, it forced me to rebuild, forced me to be strong in the face of so much grief and what felt like injustice at the time. Losing you taught me things about myself, and about your dad and me, that I could never have learned otherwise.

And I’m proud and grateful that you helped pave the way for those discoveries. A helpful child, just the kind any mother would be proud to have.

I hope that you’re proud of me, too. I know that things weren’t pretty at first; it took me a long time to really grieve you in a way that created any peaceful resolution. In fact, I am still working through that today. For the longest time, I put on a brave smile and went about my life all fierce and full of defiance in the face of tragedy, when in reality, what I needed was to truly feel, accept, and let go.

Once I wore myself out with all that bravado, I became fixated on getting answers as to why we lost you. To say that I was obsessed might be a bit of an understatement, and probably not my proudest moment. It took me some time to realize that answers wouldn’t bring you back, and that maybe you were part of a greater plan that I would never understand fully.

I’m living in that acceptance now. I understand that it wasn’t my body that rejected you, and it wasn’t you that failed either. You just weren’t meant to be my child on this Earth.

And that’s sad, but it’s okay.

You were meant to be my feather on the wind, my accountability, my hope. My angel.

You were meant to come and go from my life in a way that would teach me what it truly means to be a parent.

You were meant to be the inspiration for many changes that I would make, and some that I am still making in life.

You were meant to be my child – my daughter, I think – who will forever carry around a piece of my heart, while mine is still trying to mend itself.

I think that’s part of the amazing trajectory this journey has taken: a piece of my heart went missing, and you have it; yet somehow, I’m regenerating that loss. This only proves that becoming a mother, no matter in what way, causes your heart paradoxically to grow and become impervious to lasting damage, while also being more sensitive than ever.

Losing you broke my heart, but having you still has somehow mended it.

I’ll never forget you, dear one, for you’re imprinted in my heart, my soul, and my very skin. I only hope to make you proud by proving every day that I am worthy to be called someone’s mother, and to use what you’ve given me to be a better person in every way.

I love you every day.

Thank you for being mine.

Yours. Always…

Mama

***

I’ll love you forever,

I’ll like you for always.

As long as I’m living,

My baby you’ll be.

***

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Hi friends! Since starting down this road to a more natural way of improving my overall (and hopefully reproductive) health, I’ve incorporated dietary changes, specific supplements, home care techniques like femoral massage, Chinese herbs, and acupuncture. It’s only been three weeks with the herbs and acu-treatments, and about two months with the diet and lifestyle […]

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When the husband and I relocated to the Toledo area two years ago, I found myself living in a brand new city, surrounded by strangers (and some built-in friends and family), and starting a brand new job.

The very first person I met on my first day of work was my new boss, Lisa. I could never have known that day how much she would impact my life, or how much her life had already been impacted itself. I could tell immediately that she was a wise soul, but I wouldn’t know until later how much her life had been touched by infertility, loss, illness, and struggle.

Lisa became so much more than just a supervisor to me; she became a mentor, a friend, a confidante. She was someone with whom I could be completely honest about my personal struggles, and someone who really understood and sympathized because she had been through it all herself. She was an amazing support system for me almost instantly, which is one of the reasons why it was so easy for me to make time for fertility treatments while getting established at a new job.

After time, I found out that Lisa was sick. She was suffering with a chronic illness called gastroparesis, which caused her debilitating nausea and excruciating pain on a daily basis. She missed chunks of time at work, and was hospitalized almost weekly, sometimes for days or weeks at a time. Her life was hell, and she was a complete angel to me…

It was incredible to me that a person who had suffered for years to conceive her daughter, and then received that miracle only to be thrown immediately into chronic illness had enough compassion left in her for other people, but Lisa was one of the sweetest people you’d ever met. She had a smile for everyone, and was well-known for her shopaholic tendencies. I began to rely on her to keep me afloat on days when I just wanted to curl up and die; I knew that I might be having a little sad-uterus pity-party, but that she was struggling with pain and illness and somehow still had it in her to encourage me to get up and try again.

I think that if it hadn’t been for her, I would have run out of determination a year ago after the miscarriage. Lisa talked me through that whole process, and was one of my biggest cheerleaders as I returned to work and took the world by the balls. She was my inspiration as I tried to get my head and body right, to get myself ready to fight again, just like she did every day.

One day though, things for Lisa got worse. She would be out of the office for a week. Then two. Then she’d be back for a day or two, and then she was in the hospital for three weeks or four. Her doctors recommended not one, but two completely experimental procedures to attempt to alleviate her symptoms, but though they helped for a short time, nothing was working…

By early this year, Lisa was no longer working. She was sick and in pain daily, and in and out of the hospital with regularity. The doctors were not optimistic about her chances at controlling her illness, and things were looking bleak.

At Easter, she landed in the hospital while visiting some out-of-town relatives a few hours from home, and was soon in the ICU. At one point, Lisa was being prayed over by the hospital chaplain. Things were dire.

This is when a doctor she had never met decided to run a very common test, just in case something basic had been missed in the past.

That doctor’s intuition was right, and it literally saved Lisa’s life.

Her chronic illness had been misdiagnosed.

She had her gallbladder removed immediately, her body began to heal itself, and she is a completely different person today.

I had dinner with Lisa last week, which never would have happened when she was sick because she couldn’t actually eat food, and it is still amazing to me to see the transformation in her. In the past year, she had gone from a hopeful, colorful person, to a deflated version of herself, and back again.

She’s almost as good as new today, and that, my friends, is a miracle.

Lisa’s story gives me hope, perspective, and the courage not to give up. It’s also an excellent example of why we should always advocate for our own health, even with the doctors and professionals who are supposed to do that for us, and who are only human as well, and therefore may also make mistakes from time to time.

Lisa never gave up, and now she has her life back. She is back to shopping, and laughing, and spoiling her miracle baby rotten, but one thing hasn’t changed:

She is still keeping hope alive for everyone whose lives she has touched.

If you want to read more about her story in her words, you can visit her new blog here. I promise you’ve never met a more spirited, determined, and joyful person, and that all comes across through her words.

Miracles don’t just impact the recipients… Sometimes just being in their presence can change the lives of those who experience them, the same way my life has been impacted by Lisa’s miracle.

Don’t ever, ever give up.

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This Is My Deal...

I'm Tracy. I'm a thirty-something, happily married miscarriage survivor, who tried just about everything possible to conceive for over five years, is currently pregnant with a miracle baby girl, and is blogging about the hilarity of it all.

Join me, won't you?

2013 Hope Award Winner

I am so honored to have been chosen to receive RESOLVE's 2013 Hope Award for Best Blog!